


Square Off (for Charity)

by sigh_no_more



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-09 04:01:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5524676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sigh_no_more/pseuds/sigh_no_more
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bahorel felt incredibly smug. The donations were up substantially. Let Feuilly try and top puppies. He chanced a glance across the square, and saw Feuilly watching, with his arms folded, and eyes narrowed. His body posture couldn’t be more clear. It was on. </p><p>Or: Bahorel is in charge of collecting donations for the animal shelter he volunteers for. He wasn't expecting such stiff competition from the firemen across the square. An intense rivalry involving puppies and singing ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Square Off (for Charity)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [merelydovely](https://archiveofourown.org/users/merelydovely/gifts).



> For my fic giveaway. 
> 
> [Starfieldcanvas](http://starfieldcanvas.tumblr.com) asked for: You know those little Salvation Army donation stand things that pop up during the holidays? Picture two of those (for two different charities... or not, whichever is funnier) situated across the street (or across the mall) from each other. One is manned by Feuilly and the other by Bahorel. A bitter rivalry ensues.

**Monday**

Bahorel was a proud volunteer of Under One Woof – a local no-kill animal shelter. He had been volunteering there for almost two years when in late November, the greatest of honors fell to him.

“I need you to take charge of the donation pot,” his supervisor said.

The donation pot was the big blue pot the animal shelter had out in Government Center every December, in an effort to raise money and awareness for their cause. Charitable groups from all over the city were allowed to schedule a week when they could stand in Government Center to collect funds. It was a good, central location, so it usually raised a fair bit of money and publicity for all the causes. The fact that Bahorel was in charge of it meant his supervisor trusted him to be the face of Under One Woof, so Bahorel agreed instantly. He was determined to raise the most money in the history of Under One Woof’s donation bucket. His supervisor had muttered some warning about “that damn red bucket” – the dreaded competition of years past, but Bahorel paid her no heed. He was sure he was more than a match for the Salvation Army.

So he went to Government Center, set up the little blue pot and eagerly awaited donations. That’s when he saw the dreaded red bucket, and realized it wasn’t for the Salvation Army. It was for a local volunteer fire department. Bahorel silently cursed his luck, as the red head in charge of the fire department bucket cheerfully set up his little red bucket on the opposite side of the square and had the nerve to give a friendly wave, which Bahorel stiffly returned.

Business was going okay. Bahorel wasn’t raising as much money as he would have hoped, but it could be worse. Then the mid-morning lull hit, and foot traffic came to almost a complete stop.

That’s when the red head decided to come over.

“Hi,” he said. “I’m Feuilly.”

“Bahorel.”

“Nice to meet you, Bahorel. You’re not the usual Under One Woof representative.”

“Are you always paired against us?”

Feuilly laughed. “Against you? That makes it sound like it’s a competition.”

Bahorel narrowed his eyes. “Isn’t it?”

“From the way I see it, we’re here for the same reason: to raise money.”

“Yeah. For _different_ causes,” Bahorel retorted.

Feuilly raised his hands in surrender. “Okay, we don’t have to be friends.”

“That’s right. Get back to your side,” Bahorel said.

As soon as Feuilly had his back turned, Bahorel reached for his phone and dialed.

“Hello?” came Courfeyrac’s sleepy voice.

“I need a favor.”

 

Courfeyrac arrived almost an hour later.

“What took so long?”

“Well, you didn’t exactly ask me to do the easiest thing in the world. Not to mention I was up late finishing that essay for International Law. A class which you are _also_ in.”

“Shhhh….” Bahorel said, opening up the back door to the car Courfeyrac had arrived in. “Hello, my furry, money making friends.”

 

Within ten minutes, they had taken out the dozen puppies from the back of Courfeyrac’s car, and set up a tent, and little fence so the puppies had an area to run around in. It was an instant crowd draw, with people immediately flocking to coo over the puppies.

“All these puppies are adoptable,” Bahorel was told the crowd. “And there are plenty more dogs and cats at the shelter that need a loving home. Please help out in whatever way you can.”

Bahorel felt incredibly smug. The donations were up substantially. Let Feuilly try and top _puppies_. He chanced a glance across the square, and saw Feuilly watching, with his arms folded, and eyes narrowed. His body posture couldn’t be more clear. It was _on_.

 

It was later afternoon, when the Clipboard Man came. Bahorel didn’t know his name, nor did it matter. All that mattered was the obnoxious clipboard in his hand, and his irritating pitch.

“Hi, do you have five minutes to save the planet?”

Bahorel wanted to slap him in the face with his own clipboard. Within five minutes of his arrival, the Clipboard Man drove away almost all the foot traffic. Bahorel glared across the square at Feuilly, who had the nerve to salute him.

This would not stand.

Bahorel stomped over. “What the hell?”

“What?” Feuilly said innocently.

“Clipboard Man?”

“So it’s my fault that an enterprising man decided to take advantage of all that foot traffic?”

“You sent him there!”  
“Prove it,” Feuilly said.

Bahorel jabbed a finger at him. “Maybe I will.”

“You do that. In the meantime, it’s five o’clock, which is my time to go home. See you tomorrow?”

“Oh you will,” Bahorel muttered. “You will.”

Feuilly just laughed at him.

**Tuesday**

He wasn’t laughing the next morning when a large college choir stood next to the firemen’s spot, singing obnoxious carols until noon. When they were finally done, Feuilly stomped over.

“Your doing?”

It was Bahorel’s turn to blink innocently. “What? I mean, yes, they do go to my school. And I happen to know the head of the choir, and might happen to know she has a _thing_ for firemen. And I might have happened to mention I knew where to find some firemen. But I think it was mostly a big coincidence.”

“You know, some people seemed to enjoy the performance.”

“Some people have bad taste.”

Feuilly shrugged. Bahorel didn’t like the calculating look on his face.

 

That afternoon, there were performers by the firemen bucket again. Four of them. Singing acapella pop versions of Christmas classics. And they were good.

“Oh hi,” Feuilly grinned at Bahorel when traffic had slowed enough for him to venture over. “Come to see the show?”

“Did you hire a quartet to attract business??” Bahorel sneered.

“Of course not! This is Grantaire, Joly, Bossuet, and Jehan. They volunteer at the fire station with me. They like to sing, and we have a lot of free time down at the station, so they’ve gotten pretty good. They decided to pop in for the rest of the week.”

“Are you the puppy guy?” Grantaire asked.

“Yes. The puppy guy,” Bahorel rubbed his hands together evilly.

 

This time when Courfeyrac showed up, he brought Combeferre.

“Is there any point in suggesting that you join forces with the firemen?” he asked.

“No. They’re evil. And cheats. Using singing firemen as bait. That’s cheating.”

“And what are you doing?”

“This isn’t the time to get all logical with me,” Bahorel said. “This is time for you to shut up and be a friend.”

“Fine,” Combeferre said. Beside him, Courfeyrac was practically bouncing up and down in glee.

As Combeferre got set up behind him, Bahorel jumped up on an empty chair.

“Gather around in five minutes to see cats meeting puppies for the very first time!”

He could hear Combeferre sigh as he started unloading the cat carriers. But the massive crowds of people that gathered around were worth Combeferre’s judgement. Even the firemen grudgingly came to watch the bewildered cats eventually accept and cuddle the puppies. But when Feuilly’s caught Bahorel’s eye, he knew this was far from over.

 

**Wednesday**

The next day, Feuilly’s firemen friends were back. And they forgot their shirts.

Grantaire and Bossuet were buff. There was no other word for it. They had strong, muscular builds. Joly was more lithe, but he wasn’t hard on the eyes. Even Jehan, who had seemed scrawny just the day before, under his hideous monstrosity of a sweater, had a nice, toned figure.

“Oh come on!” Bahorel said.

“Lucky it’s an unseasonably warm winter, eh?” Feuilly said.

“You don’t really think people are that shallow, do you?”

“Awwww….” Feuilly pinched Bahorel’s cheek. He was lucky Bahorel didn’t punch him in the face. “Your optimism is adorable.”

In the end, it turned out Feuilly was right. People really were that shallow. Foot traffic increased exponentially. It seemed everyone wanted a chance to gawk at shirtless firemen.

Bahorel texted Courfeyrac.

 **Bahorel:** Shirtless firemen? How predictable.

 **Courf:** Pics plz

That was fine.  Bahorel saw their five shirtless firemen and raised them one blonde revolutionary.

**Thursday**

“So what can I do?” Enjolras asked eagerly. “Do you want me to talk to people? Help explain the good work Under One Woof does?”

“No.” Bahorel gently took Enjolras by his shoulders and guided him to stand right by the sign. “Just stand here. And smile at people. Or don’t. Do that smolder thing you do.”

Enjolras glared at him. “What smolder thing?”

“That. Right there! Perfect! Well, almost.”

Bahorel tilted his head back to take in the sight. He ruffled Enjolras’s perfect hair so it was tousled just so, then dropped a puppy in Enjolras’s arms. He nodded. Perfect. The sex hair with the sweater and puppy wriggling in his arms made Enjolras the perfect combination of hot and approachable. The firemen were selling pure sex, whereas Enjolras was (unknowingly and reluctantly) selling sex _and_ a relationship.

“Stay like that. Just like that.” Bahorel told Enjolras.

“This is incredibly demeaning.”

“Shhhh. Don’t talk.”

His plan had been a brilliant one. Donations almost doubled within an hour. People of all ages and genders stopped by, suddenly very interested in learning about Under One Woof. Or at least they pretended to have the decency to be interested in learning about Under One Woof. All except one.

“So you made your boyfriend come and do your dirty work for you?” Feuilly said, looking amused.

“Enjolras is not my boyfriend,” Bahorel said loudly. “Enjolras is single, ladies and gentlemen.”

“No ladies,” Enjolras said, looking horrified.

“Shhhhh,” Bahorel said, putting another puppy in Enjolras’s arms, hoping it would distract him.

It didn’t.

“You’re not even telling people about the foster kitten program,” Enjolras said indignantly. He turned to Feuilly hopefully. “Would you like to learn more about fostering a kitten in need?”

Feuilly smiled kindly at him. “I would. But unfortunately, I need to get back to my own stand.”

“Wait,” Enjolras’s eyes flickered up to Feuilly’s red hair. “You’re the guy who runs the other bucket, aren’t you?”

“What did Bahorel tell you it was for?”

“He didn’t,” Enjolras said a little too quickly. He relented when Feuilly raised his eyebrows at him. “Satanism.”

“You told your friend I ran a booth for Satanism?” Feuilly said with a surprised chuckle.

“Maybe,” Bahorel said.

“Firemen,” Feuilly said. “We’re collecting donations for the local fire department, where I am a volunteer firefighter. Most of the money is going towards buying smoke alarms and fire extinguishers for lower income neighborhoods. That, and kits for families after the fires so they can have basics if their houses are destroyed.”

Enjolras honest to goodness _sighed_. “Do you have a brochure?” he asked.

“No! You’re my friend!” Bahorel hissed. He turned on Feuilly. “He’s _my_ friend. Don’t try to lure him over to the dark side by telling him about your charitable works.”

“That sentence is contradictory,” Feuilly smirked.

“ _You’re_ contradictory!”

“Uh…Feuilly?”

All three of them turned to look at the newcomer: Grantaire. (Still missing was Grantaire’s shirt). He did a double take when he saw Enjolras.

“Yeah?” Feuilly asked. Grantaire blinked a few more times at Enjolras. “Grantaire?”

“Huh? Oh, right,” Grantaire finally ripped his eyes away from Enjolras. “I wanted to find out if you’re coming back anytime soon?”

“I was just leaving,” Feuilly said. “And Enjolras? Feel free to stop by later.”

Enjolras nodded as Bahorel scowled at him. Grantaire cast another look at Enjolras before tossing a $20 bill into the pot. Feuilly whacked his arm. Grantaire caught Enjolras’s eye and grinned, before following Feuilly back to their side of the square. Bahorel supposed it was a small comfort that he wasn’t the only one with traitorous friends.

 

**Friday**

Bahorel had the worst friends. He had been woken up early (and rudely) by Combeferre and Courfeyrac, who dragged him to Government Center.

“What’s happening? Oh.”

Feuilly looked like he had been similarly roughly woken up by Joly and Bossuet. Grantaire and Enjolras stood in the center of the square. Enjolras held the firemen bucket, while Grantaire held the Under One Woof one.

“What the hell.” Feuilly said flatly.

“This pains me to say, but the two of you are being ridiculous. I’m so sorry to be so harsh, Feuilly,” Enjolras said.

“Why are you apologizing to him? He’s not your friend!” Bahorel yelped.

“I forgive you,” Feuilly said.

“But honestly, the time you two spent trying to one up each other this week, when you should have been working together.”

“Work together?” Bahorel and Feuilly repeated in unison.

“Obviously,” Combeferre said.

“How’s that?” Bahorel crossed his arms.

“Oh come on. Firemen bring in a lot of money. Puppies bring in a lot of money. But firemen holding puppies? What would bring in more money than that?”

“That’s actually a good point,” Bahorel admitted reluctantly.

“I suppose we could give it a try. It is the last day, so even if Under One Woof messes us up, we’ve already made more than our target,” Feuilly said.

“You’re on, asshole!” Bahorel said, shaking his hand.

They split up into two teams, with Bahorel taking Jehan, Grantaire and Enjolras. Feuilly took Joly, Bossuet, Combeferre, and Courfeyrac. And it seemed like Bahorel’s traitor friends had a point. Shirtless firemen cuddling puppies made for good business. Really good business.

 

**Saturday**

“So how did you do?” Feuilly asked Bahorel.

The two groups met up for a late brunch at the Corinth, a local hole in the wall place someone recommended.

“We made more yesterday than we did the rest of the days combined,” Bahorel said begrudgingly.

“Yeah, us too.”

They looked at each other and sighed.

“Okay, well we’ve all already decided to hang out on the regular, so I hope this is the start of a beautiful friendship between the two of you,” Jehan said, swiping a slice of bacon from Courfeyrac’s massive pile.

“Seriously?” Bahorel asked as Feuilly gave wounded looks to his friends.

“You should hear about the social justice club they’re forming,” Joly said, nodding at Enjolras, Combeferre and Courfeyrac.

“And Grantaire boxes, so you could work out with him. But he’s friends with Feuilly, so you have to be friends with Feuilly too, or else it’s a little weird,” Courfeyrac said.

“Alright. Maybe. It was kind of fun this week,” Bahorel said.

“A little,” Feuilly shrugged.

“Perfect. Because I have an idea for next year that will raise even more money for both of you,” Jehan said serenely.

“What’s that?”

 

**2016**

“I regret agreeing to this,” Enjolras said.

“Sold out in one day!” Courfeyrac said proudly. “I’m glad I bought my copy early.”

“It’s weird you bought one,” Bossuet said.

“No it’s not.”

“Little bit,” Joly said.

Courfeyrac paid him no mind. He cleared the table they were all gathered around. “Gentlemen, shall we take a look at the finished product? Les Amis’s first holiday calendar: Shirtless Men Holding Puppies.”

Bahorel had to admit, he was rather proud. Everyone in the group had agreed to it. Some because they liked to flaunt, but all of them for the money for charity it would raise.

Feuilly nudged Bahorel. “I’m glad I decided to take pity on you and let you be my friend.”

Bahorel shoved him back. “As if, loser. You were practically _begging_ to be my friend after Under One Woof kicked your ass.”

“Whatever, asshole. We can argue about it over a beer. Let’s go.”

Bahorel hid a grin to himself. This seemed to be the start of a beautiful holiday tradition.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope everyone enjoyed this self-indulgent fluff. 
> 
> I'm [here](http://babesatthebarricade.tumblr.com)


End file.
